Bright
by Drown Me In Blue
Summary: Although he knows quite well what Toshirou is doing, Ichigo goes along with it easily enough, depositing their ramen and tea on the table without comment. He takes a seat, pours the tea, and then says, "You'll be good for him, Toshirou."


**Pairing: **_Toshirou Hitsugaya x Ulquiorra Schiffer_

**Music:** The Dangling Conversation_, by Simon and Garfunkel_

**Word count:** ~ 2500

**Rating:** T

**A/N:**_This is for the wonderful and very lovely __**JoanIncarnate,**__ who requested a sci-fi Ulquiorra/Toshirou fic. No sci-fi, for which I apologize, and it wanted to be a Toshirou-Ichigo friendship fic more than it wanted to be a romance. _

* * *

_**Prompt 60: **__Bright_

* * *

_He's such a bright boy, isn't he?_

Toshirou's heard it a hundred times, a thousand. With his grandmother, in the Academy, when he took the test to become a captain, even now when he's doing a captain's work. It drives him spare, most of the time. After all, for all their advancement and seeming open-mindedness, the Gotei 13 is disgustingly blind. No matter Toshirou's age, they look at him, see his outward appearance, and call him a child, and nothing will change their minds. Toshirou has tried, but the only one who can manage to see him as something more than a precocious little boy is Kurosaki.

And isn't that the irony of a lifetime?

One would think that Soul Society, with their ages of experience in learning _not_ to judge someone by their outward appearance, would be able to overlook the fact that Toshirou will spend the rest of his afterlife trapped in the body of a child. One would also be wrong. There's a reason Toshirou forever insists on formality with those around him, even those close to him. It's the only way to be acknowledged as what he is, and even then Toshirou often gets the awful feeling that they're only indulging him, pandering to the gifted prepubescent genius he's regarded as, and it's _infuriating_.

Hyōrinmaru understands, the cold voice of unwanted reason perpetually embedded in Toshirou's skull. He resents the zanpakuto, sometimes, because _he_ doesn't have to deal with the condescension and superciliousness of the other Gotei 13 members. No, _he's_ an incredibly powerful and ancient spirit, most powerful of the ice-and-snow type. Toshirou is only the youngest shinigami to achieve bankai or become a captain, which doesn't seem to matter much to the other captains.

With a soft sigh, Toshirou consigns himself to a sleepless night and rises, wrapping a blue kimono Hinamori gave him around himself. The moon is up, icy-white and cold, and Toshirou's breath frosts in the cool air. He can't tell if it's naturally cold or if the drop in temperature is a reaction to his presence, but he doesn't care. At least it's no longer summer, and he doesn't have to suffer through the heat.

There's a flicker of familiarly immense reiatsu and the sound of someone landing on his porch, but Toshirou doesn't turn around. At this time of night, with that much power, there's only one person it can be.

"Ichigo," he acknowledges. "Shouldn't you be sleeping? Or does the Fifth give its officers the morning off?"

The former substitute folds himself over the railing next to Toshirou with a weary sigh. He's fresh off patrol, probably in the world of the living, and his robe is tattered and bloodstained. Zangetsu is slung over his back, and Toshirou wonders absently if it ever gets too heavy, like Hyōrinmaru sometimes does, when the nights are long and the days are longer.

"Adrenaline," Ichigo says simply, and that one word is explanation enough. Toshirou knows how it is, patrolling with a group. Alone, there's no one who needs you, depends on you. In a squad, the tension of _whatifIfailthemwhatiftheyDIE _ is forever present, and simple battles that would otherwise pass without worry suddenly become heart-pounding, blood-chilling exercises in keeping the others alive.

Ichigo won't sleep tonight, not after that kind of fight.

Toshirou nods to show that he understands. They have a strange sort of friendship between them, and Toshirou suspects—though he will never say—that it is mainly because they are so similar. Both prodigies, both so powerful that any control over their reiatsu is hard-won. Both odd, the outcasts among the captains—Toshirou for being the youngest in a group of grumpy old men (and Unohana, who is so terrifying that she doesn't count), and Ichigo for having never gone through the Academy, for being so recently human.

People look at them and see opposites, Kurosaki all fiery temper and Hitsugaya icy disdain, but they're more alike than they are different. Once, during one of his more poetic moments, Ichigo called what Toshirou displays "icy passion." Toshirou likes the term, agrees with it. He's not cold—can't be, with the way things so often irritate him—and Ichigo isn't hot—not with that icy determination he hides under the blustering anger.

They're the youngest captains by a large margin, but as proficient in combat as the very oldest. Toshirou has heard Kyoraku say that they'll both surpass the original captains within a hundred years, which is flattering, if somewhat unnerving. But—

"Your brain never stops, does it?" Ichigo asks in amusement, glancing at him sidelong. "Anything important?"

At one point, before Toshirou had woken up one day and realized that he and Ichigo had been sniping at each other in a mostly-fond manner for over two decades, Toshirou might have snapped at him that every thought was important. Now he simply sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose.

"Not really," he admits grudgingly, because Ichigo will manage to pry it out of him anyway. "How many Hollows were there?"

Ichigo accepts the abrupt switch in topics easily enough, one of the few who can follow Toshirou in conversation without batting an eye. "Four. Former Espada—you know, the ones who add a hundred to their number. Aizen used to use them to guard Las Noches. We beat them, but I need to give it up and get a lieutenant."

Toshirou steels himself against a wince. He knows that what happened to Hinamori isn't his fault, that it was Aizen's doing through and through, but she's never recovered from that final battle. Unohana keeps her in the Fourth Division now, safe and secreted away from the rest of the world, and it's better that way. Still, were Toshirou able to go back in time, he would, if only to chop Aizen into the little tiny bloody bits he deserves to be.

Keeping his voice as steady as possible, Toshirou asks carefully, "What about one of the Arrancar?"

The other captain flicks a surprised glance in his direction, and Toshirou can't blame him. After all, Toshirou was one of those who argued hardest against taking the remaining Arrancar into the Gotei 13 after Aizen's death. They're still not full members, but not by much. The Captain-Commander assigned them all to Ichigo's division until places could be found, and Ichigo's never been one to hold a grudge, so he often takes them along on patrol.

After a brief hesitation, Ichigo nods. "Yeah, I guess that would work. I'd have to get Yamamoto to reassign the rest too, though, or I'd have a lot of really bored and resentful Arrancar on my hands." He turns the problem over in his mind for a few minutes, and Toshirou can see the gears spinning. Some of the captains, like Soi Fong, think that Ichigo is stupid. He's most certainly not, but it works in his favor to have people underestimate him.

"Sleep on it," Toshirou advises, when the silence grows too deep. "There's only five of them, how hard can it be to shuffle the divisions around a little bit? You know them best, you should be able to pick out where they'll fit in." He yawns without meaning to, but Ichigo has always been able to calm his mind on nights like this, be it with sparring, arguing, or simply talking. He's ready to sleep, and from the looks of it, Ichigo is the same.

"Yeah," the redhead repeats, pushing himself upright with a thoughtful look on his face. "Night, Toshirou." He vanishes with a flicker, too fast for even Toshirou's eye to follow. The older shinigami rolls his eyes and heads back towards his futon, already growing drowsy even as he's muttering about disrespectful young upstarts and annoying power levels. As he sinks down under the thin blanket, he ignores the voice telling him he sounds like an old man as sleep overtakes him.

* * *

He really should have expected it, Toshirou realizes, standing in line with the other captains at the meeting. No good deed goes unpunished, after all, and especially not when done to Kurosaki Ichigo.

The bastard.

There's a bad feeling crawling up and down Toshirou's spine as he watches the Captain-Commander and Ichigo plot, their heads bent together. The Captain-Commander is as hard to read as ever, but Ichigo looks pleased, and if there's one thing Toshirou has learned to fear, it's a happy Ichigo.

At length, the Captain-Commander straightens up from their conference and nods, and Ichigo steps back into his place in the line. Yamamoto raises a hand, calling for the silence he already has, and says, "I find myself in agreement with Captain Kurosaki. The Arrancar are acclimated to Soul Society now and ready to be integrated into the divisions. They will be made seated officers, in reflection of their power, and are to be trusted." He nods to Ichigo, who nods back.

"I know them," the younger captain says, and there's steel in his voice. "So I've assigned them where they'll fit in the best. Grimmjow will take the fourth seat in the Eleventh Division. Starrk will become the Third's Lieutenant. Harribel has agreed to serve with Captain Hisagi as his Lieutenant, and Nel will serve as mine in the Fifth." He pauses, and something very similar to satisfaction flickers over his face. It makes Toshirou stiffen, especially when those wicked brown eyes settle on him, and a slight smile tilts the corners of Ichigo's mouth. "Ulquiorra will become the third seat of the Tenth Division, under Captain Hitsugaya."

If it would help, Toshirou would snarl and snap at Ichigo, bellow at him that he doesn't need a third seat, but it won't, so he doesn't. Instead, he pinches the bridge of his nose and quietly plots his revenge.

* * *

Ichigo catches up with Toshirou in one of the lower districts, where they always get lunch after the meetings. Toshirou doesn't acknowledge him, because the redhead looks completely unrepentant, but simply takes his usual seat and waits for Ichigo to bring their food.

He's a master of passive-aggressive, after dealing with Matsumoto for so long.

Although he knows quite well what Toshirou is doing, Ichigo goes along with it easily enough, depositing their ramen and tea on the table without comment. He takes a seat, pours the tea, and then says, "You'll be good for him, Toshirou."

Apparently, this is where they begin their heart-to-heart. Toshirou considers, just for a moment, getting up and leaving. But something like that won't stop Kurosaki Ichigo, who—for all his reticence with his own problems—is quite willing to talk his friends' problems to death, so Toshirou gives in with as much grace as he can and picks up his tea.

"Are you trying to give my division frostbite?" he inquires sharply. "Two leaders who have problems showing anything will wreck havoc with morale, Ichigo. It won't work."

"But it will," Ichigo disagrees. "Just give Ulquiorra a chance. He's been empty of everything for so long, and finally breaking Aizen's hold on him has confused him. He has too much power, not enough control, and a new world to understand. You're probably the only one who can understand, Toshirou."

There's a headache building behind Toshirou's eyes, and he rubs at it again. "Wonderful," he mutters. "So we can both try to deal with normal human emotions together, and fail spectacularly. Great thinking, Ichigo."

Ichigo ignores that, as he does most things he doesn't agree with, and points out, "Besides, at least with Ulquiorra, you might actually get some work done. He's not like Matsumoto."

"Thank _god_." Toshirou's voice is fervent. "If you had assigned Starrk to my division, I would have gutted you." He looks up to see the warm, compassionate, inordinately _fond_ look on Ichigo's face, and feels the last of his resistance crumble away as he sighs. "Very well. Send him over; I'll have one of the unseated shinigami make up his quarters. And at least you'll be stuck dealing with Nelliel on your own—that's punishment enough."

Ichigo just smiles faintly at him, the bare lightening of his ever-present frown, and leans back with his tea. Toshirou rolls his eyes at him, but can't deny the sliver of warmth he gets in his chest at seeing his friend so pleased.

Surely, if Ichigo feels this strongly about it, it won't be so bad.

* * *

Ulquiorra is nothing like what Toshirou expects. Where he anticipates coldness, he gets defensive emptiness. Where he thinks the Arrancar will be rude, he is polite and deferential.

Where Toshirou expected a reformed monster, he gets a lost man looking for his place in the world.

Where he expected a strained but bearable working relationship, Toshirou finds love.

* * *

The moon is up, icy-white and cold, and Toshirou's breath frosts in the cool air. He can't tell if it's naturally cold or if the drop in temperature is a reaction to his presence, but he doesn't care. At least it's no longer summer, and he doesn't have to suffer through the heat with another body pressed next to his on the futon.

A flicker of immense reiatsu and the sound of a step, and Ichigo appears to perch on the porch railing, grinning down at Toshirou with an expression that can only be described as _smug_. Toshirou resists the urge to pound Ichigo's head into the nearest post, or his own, or to run back and throw the door shut before Ichigo can see just who is occupying his bed, but gives it up as a lost cause when Ichigo's grin only widens.

"Don't," Toshirou warns. "Don't you dare, Kurosaki."

Ichigo just laughs, softly enough not to wake Ulquiorra, and tosses the other captain a salute before vanishing.

But there's an echo as he goes, one that Toshirou can't help but smile at.

"I told you that you'd be good for him."

That's probably the closest Kurosaki will ever get to saying "I told you so." Toshirou's a little thankful for that, but it's far outweighed by the part of him that's _still_ planning to get his revenge as he growls after the Fifth's captain.

Reiatsu flickers, and Toshirou turns to watch Ulquiorra glide across the porch with his usual eerie grace, hands tucked into the pockets of his sleeping pants. The Arrancar comes to stand beside him, looking up at the moon above. They don't touch, because they don't need to.

"Beautiful," Ulquiorra says after a moment. "So very vivid."

"Bright," Toshirou agrees, and for the first time in his life the word has no other meanings.


End file.
